I dreamt of you (again). It was an epic dream, the kind that picks up where it leaves off after waking a few moments to roll over, or take a quick middle of the night piss. You were a school janitor, and dressed accordingly. I don’t know what the fuck I was doing in school; and I have no idea what I was wearing, as I was dreaming in first person–I can only hope I looked hawt as all hell’s acres.
The details are dingy, but I do recall leaning against a set of tall grey lockers next to the ladies’ room, and you were nearly pressed against me. I playfully jingled the keys attached to your belt loop while you explained I was too young to kiss. Bullshit, Norman. I’m a grown ass woman–37, thank you very fucking much!
I awoke for good just after you asked me out. “Let’s get together tonight and throw some darts,” you said.
It’s a start, Norman. I’m free this Saturday.
Kindra M. Austin